


A Valuable Bounty

by Name1



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Beginnings, Angst, F/M, Greef Karga (mentioned) - Freeform, Mention of Starvation, Mention of torture, Young Mando, early hunter days, everyone is less jaded, happyending, less weary, or beginning, unlikely friends, up to you, younger Cara, ~20s ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-26 15:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30108339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Name1/pseuds/Name1
Summary: A younger and less experienced Mando takes the highest paying bounty puck Greef has on hand. The resulting  job isn't what he expected.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin/Cara Dune
Comments: 72
Kudos: 62





	1. The value of a life

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to accompany Mandalorianess's post. It just took me longer than I expected to get around to finishing it :)

"Ah Mando! Good to see you again, and so soon!" the head of the Guild bellows, as soon as the door opens and his best hunter walks inside.

"Those last jobs were too easy, Karga," the Mandalorian complains, as he pulls out a chair to sit down. "Fuel is expensive, surely you got something harder than that....something with a higher payday?"

Ever since Mando had acquired the 'kid,' Greef noticed he'd been more concerned with finances. He didn't mind going hungry a night or two, but he always made sure the kid had a fat green tummy. 

The older man looks around "well, I **_do_** hav----no, nevermind," he says, before changing his mind. He scoffs and assures him," I'll find something else."

"No, wait!" the armored man exclaimed. His interest had been peaked. "What's the mark?"

"More dangerous than anyone you've gone after before," Karga warns him. "I don't want to see my best hunter dead."

Din's always been stubborn, no reason to quit now. "Show me."

Greef pulls out a few pucks until he finds the right one and pushes the button to make it light up.

Din was surprised to say the least. "It's a woman," he states, somewhat unnecessarily.

Greef laughed and patted him on the arm below his pauldron.

"More woman than you can handle, boy."

He watched the short video play on loop and read the text along the bottom. _Cara Dune.....Age....height....weight.....wanted by the empire.....alive._ Shit. "You know I hate running jobs for the Empire," he complains.

"You wanted money," Greef reminds him, " and they got the money....for _her_ at least."

"What did she do?" Mando asks, clearly intrigued.

"Handed the empire its ass on a silver platter if the rumors are true," Karga tells him. "She was a dropper for the rebellion who went rogue and decimated a number of their outposts.

Din can't quite buy it. "By _herself_?"

Greef grinned. "If you believe the rumors." If the Empire was scared of a single woman who was only 23, there probably had to be something to those rumors after all. 

Damn, Din thought. He respected this woman already on principle, but business was business; especially when he did a double-take at the payday.

"Maybe they'd still offer a reward if you did her a favor and killed her," Karga suggests. "I wouldn't want to be in her shoes when they get their hands on her."

"The empire doesn't make deals," Din reminds him. "They want her alive, so I'll bring her in alive."

"Don't get distracted by her pretty face, Mando. She won't give you a inch if you slip up....."

He snatched up the puck. "I won't."

.....

Din had been a member of the guild for exactly one year, and despite being only in his mid-twenties, he'd out-performed almost all the veteran hunters twice over. He was more than well-armed though, he thought, and had more tricks up his sleeve than this woman could ever expect. He was sure this would be a piece of cake.

..................

Check out Mandalorianess's other pieces[ here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/mandalorianess)


	2. The monster

He sees his target sitting at the bar in the spaceport on Trask, just like the tracking fob told him she would be. She has her back to him so he takes his time studying her while he can. All the intel he gathered told him this was her. She's beautiful--he can't deny it. Solid frame. Dark hair. From the look of her, she'd probably put up one hell of a fight. He was ready for it. He steps up right next to her and gets to it. 

"I can bring you in warm....or I ca--"

"Don't you mean _hot_?" she interrupts him without turning around, making him pause. 

"What?"

"If you're hitting on me, try harder," she states, seemingly bored with the interaction.

He takes a deep breath and summons his patience. He starts over. "I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold." He places his hand on his blaster for maximum effectiveness. 

She looks down at his blaster, totally unimpressed. There's the same level of fear if he was holding a two-day-old sandwich. Clearly amused, she looked back up to his helmet before returning to her drink and buttered roll on the bartop. "Yeah, no. Neither of those work for me. I'm finishing this beer. Come back in an hour, if you want a go." She turned back away from him, but not before she smiled at the fuzzy green head that peaked it's way out of the shoulder bag he wore. "The cute kid would sweeten the pot..... if I liked kids that is." Without any hesitation, she swivels so far around that he's looking at her back again. 

_Wait, what? Did she just **dismiss** him? He feels dismissed._

He puts her puck in front of her and it lights up. He'll try a more direct approach.

"You're Cara Dune."

She chuckles at that. "I've been called worse, buddy."

"How hard do you want to make this?"

She chuckles at his unexpectedly suggestive question, though her back is still turned toward him. "Is that your new pick up line? That's much better than the last one." 

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I'm collecting your bounty, and the order is for you to be _alive_ , so it's in your best interest not to test my patience." _Anymore, that is.....he was already flustered--thrown off his game. His carefully rehearsed line had never fizzled out before. Who the hell was this woman?_

"And when I tell you I'm not getting up?" she asks him challengingly, "you're not just going to shoot me?"

"Look lady. I'm just doing my job and my kid needs a nap. You gonna make me work for it?"

She actually laughed as she turned back to look at him. It was a beautiful sound in this dirty and grungy shithole port bar. Her smile transformed her whole face. There was even a little wrinkle under her tattoo beneath her eye. _The rebellion firebird--very understated_ , he thought with an eye roll. With ink like that, she was obviously looking for trouble in these parts crawling with Imperials. He liked looking for trouble sometimes too. 

Cara finished her drink in an impressive gulp and sighed loudly to herself. It had been a long couple of weeks and a trying handful of bounty hunters that no one would miss--or _find, for that matter_. The price on her head must be sky-high if they just kept coming. She thought she could drop off the grid, but they found her time and time again. She got rid of them easily enough, but it was getting old......

She had told herself yesterday that when the next one came, she'd just go. She was tired. Tired of all of it-- running, hiding, fighting, _pretending_. She had let herself have this one last run, but as much as she wanted to kick this guy's ass, she was done.

She shoveled down the last of her roll. "Let's go then," she says suddenly, before she stands up and starts heading for the exit, waiting for him to catch up. _What was this, the eleventh one? The twelfth?_

He steps quicker to keep up with her unexpected exit. "What?!"

"Where's your ship, bounty hunter?" she asks him hurriedly, "you **DO** have one, right?"

He stops in his tracks. He's not sure he wants to take her back there now. This isn't going like it's supposed to go--she's not supposed to be running this. He does not feel incontrol of this in any way shape or form. "What kind of game are you playing?" he asks her, dragging his feet.

"No games,"she insists. "I'm letting you take me in. Your kid needs a nap and we're burning daylight, so let's go. I'd like to get shot zero times if possible today."

He's cautious as he gets close enough to put binders on her and secures her hands behind her back for added security. She looks like the kind of person who could pick a lock if it was in front of her. The muscles were obvious in her arms, and he wasn't taking any chances.

"This isn't necessary," she grumbles at him, as he lowers the ramp when they approach. " I walked here under my own power."

"It's not the walking I'm worried about," he tells her. "It's so you don't kill me and take my ship."

" _This_ hunk of junk?" she asks, with a low whistle, "no offence, but you'd have to pay ME to fly that thing."

"Very funny." He tightens the binders before giving her a shove toward the ramp. "Let's go." 

"Can't even trust a girl you just met to take back to your ship? No wonder you're so great picking up women at bars."

......

He secures her for takeoff.

Her hands are behind her and he uses a second set of binders to tether her to a steel pipe running up the wall. At least she can sit down and her bad shoulder isn't aching yet, she thinks. He punches in the take-off sequence and buckles the kid in, before returning to where she's becoming acquainted with the pipe in the main 'living area' if you could graciously call it that. He's watching her and she's watching him in a stalemate. 

He gets closer to take a proper look at her. She's filthy. Her pants are covered in dirt and her face is smudged with it as well. Her thick dark hair up close is as voluminous as it is in part due to all the tangles.

"You can take a shower later," he informs her, hoping that will make her feel better, but she tenses up even more.

She sneers at him. "Just so you know, even with my hands in binders, I'll cause you just as much pain when you touch me."

"What do you mean?" he asks, with a questioning tilt of his helmet. He thought he was doing her a favor.

She scoffs at him. "What do you _think_ a woman worries about while tied up and told to get naked?"

He lets out an offended sound in protest. "I'm not going to rape you. What kind of degenerate do you think I am?" 

"I don't know," she says, just to be difficult. "There are lots of different kinds. Which kind are _you_?"

"You'll have privacy," he assures her, "I just thought you'd like to not sit in your own blood and dirt."

She tries to push her luck while he's all defensive. "I'd believe you more if you let me have my hands in front of me to defend myself against any unwanted advances."

He can't argue with that, though he's never thought of untying a bounty before. He could just freeze her instead, but her smart mouth is the most entertainment he's had in ages. He's not really _untying_ her, he's just allowing her bound hands to be kept in front of her. "You going to fight or try to escape?" he asks, as he approaches her with a plan to get her hands in front of her.

She shakes her head. "Nope. I told you I wouldn't, and I won't."

He sighs. He must be the biggest idiot in the guild, but for some reason he trusted her. Greef would have smacked him upside the helmet if he could see this, and his Buir would have rolled over in his grave. ' _Don't trust her pretty face._ ' 

It wasn't her _face_ that he trusted though. Given her crimes against the Empire, her moral compass was more tuned into what was right than even his own. Something about her just made him trust her. She was either the greatest con artist he'd ever come across or the most honest person he'd ever seen. 

He does some fancy rearranging that involves two more sets of binders going on and coming off in sets of two so that at any given point both of her hands are encased in metal until they're both held by a single pair of binders in front of her body. He keeps waiting for her to lunge but she doesn't--he's not sure if he's assured or disappointed. She's still attached to the pipe, but at the very least she should be much more comfortable with the greater range of motion. 

"Thank the stars for that," she breathes out. She even lets out in a pleased sigh when she can see both of her hands, though still attached loosely to the metal running up the wall. "That's so much better." She wiggles her ten fingers and rolls her shoulders. He gives her a minute to adjust to the new position and takes a few steps back to give her some room. He looks around the floor for the kid and panics when he sees where he's ended up during his moment of distraction. 

Much to Din's horror, the kid has climbed up her outstretched legs begging for attention. He's pushing his head against her hands for ear rubs, and without waiting for her permission he climbs in her lap. "Okay, Okay," she agrees begrudgingly with a laugh, "so pushy."

Din freezes. "Don't hurt him," he says, as he sees her hands around the little green body where he's wiggled his way in between the metal binders. Din raises up his hands in a position of surrender. He's ready to give in to whatever demands she has if she just doesn't hurt the baby. "Please."

Cara frowns at him. He made it sounds as if she snatched the poor kid out of his bed and was holding him ransom. She's kind of offended. 

"I'm not going to hurt a baby and he came to **_me!_** " she exclaimed. "I might have done a lot of shit, but I don't hurt kids."

The kid keeps putting his head under her bound hands, bumping his little fuzzy head against her until she gives in and strokes his ears. The kid must have cracked a smile at her because she smiled unexpectedly too. Her hands are some of the strongest he's seen, but she just passes her fingers over the downy little hairs on the kid's ears so unbelievably light that it's hard to remember they belong to a soldier who's killed hundreds of Imperial troops. 

He keeps watching her out of the corner of his eye but she's in a relaxed position on the floor with her hands bound in her lap, letting the baby climb all over her. The awkwardness of her tethering doesn't stop her from playing with the little one who can't seem to get enough of her.

"Don't get attached to the bounty, kid," he calls out to him, when his head nuzzles more firmly against her stomach. _What had gotten into him? He was always so wary of strangers....... It would only take seven days to get to the dropoff, but Din knew it would be a long trip anyway._

"My name is Cara," she reminds him, "but you already know that. Does he talk?"

"No. Not yet, anyway," he replies. Din tries to pull the kid out of her lap to lower his own anxiety, but he holds on tight with his little green clawed hands fisted in her shirt. He gives up after trying a second time. "Fine, stay there," he says to the stubborn green baby. "I'm going to make dinner."

He throws some various ingredients into a pot and leaves them to boil before stepping back to watch it 'cook'. Cara's watching him from across the living space and she expects to see some other form of meal prep, but he looks like he's done. "No offence," she chimes in, "but just the smell of your cooking might kill me before the Empire does."

"That's the best I can do," he argues, frustrated at her critique, "I'm a bounty hunter, not a chef."

"I thought you were a Mandalorian."

"Those things aren't mutually exclusive, and you can call me 'Mando'."

At the smell of the burning heating element and plain vegetables getting stronger, she leans forward with the kid in her arms. He's licking his lips at the promise of food, no matter how horrible it might be. "Hey!" she yells out, to get Mando's attention over the small exhaust fan, "take these stupid things off and let me make a dinner that's actually edible. I gave you my word I'd go without a fight and my word is the only thing I have left."

He didn't get it. None of this made any sense. She probably could have gotten away from him with how much strength she had coiled up in her. He wasn't leering, but her thighs and her arms were hard to conceal--the kid trying to lift up her shirt to flash her stomach didn't help. He finally can't keep it bottled up inside him any longer. He has to know what gives. He didn't like feeling tricked. "Why didn't you fight? You obviously can, and pretty damn well from the look of it."

"I'm tired of running," she explains. She doesn't know how to explain her sudden surrender in a way that won't make him suspicious of her. "Of all the people that have tried to capture me, you seemed....like a decent human being." 

"You couldn't even see my face," he argued.

"A face doesn't tell you anything about a person," she argues right back. "You didn't try to get the jump on me and didn't even take a shot when my back was turned." At his surprise, she chuckles. "Oh yeah, I knew you were watching me. You're not exactly inconspicuous as shiny as you are..... And with the kid, you could use the money--a win-win for all involved."

"Your life isn't the equivalent of some credits," he argued, strangely defensive she thought he valued her life so little. 

She cocks her head to the side in a silent challenge. "No? Then why are you trading me for them then, Mandalorian?"

"I told you, you can call me Mando, and the trade is for _beskar_ \--the metal I'm wearing. It's what keeps our people's traditions alive. It's more than money--it about the survival of our people. There are only a handful of us left scattered throughout the galaxy. We're hard to find, but beskar is much harder."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh good. I'm worth a lump of metal. I feel so much better now."

He laughs at her dry humor. The sound of such a humor-filled sound was foreign to his own ears. He didn't _laugh_ much and certainly not out loud in an empty ship with just the quiet kid for company. Talking with her was not what he expected it to be-- _It was worse._ He liked it and he knew he shouldn't. She was nothing like what he expected. Strong, smart mouth, confident, funny, patient. She made him laugh.

"Look, I **_am_** sorry about all this," he says honestly. "You don't seem like the person they paint you to be."

She smiled sweetly down at the kid and her next words didn't match her soft hands at all. "Oh I'm a monster," she admits. "Everything they said about me is true......and then some."

"People stretch the truth to make themselves look righteous," he states, trying to prove her wrong. "It's easy to make some out to be the enemy--a monster--especially when there's no one else around to contradict it."

"I'm one of the last of my kind too," she shares with him. "That fancy disk tell you where I'm from?

.......

She proceeded to tell him her story. Din knew it could all be a pile of bantha shit, but it seemed real. Maybe she was playing on his prejudices--his weaknesses--but he didn't think so.

He knew she was telling the truth no matter how far fetched it seemed. You can't fake that despair or that dark void in someone's eyes who's lost everything that used to get them out of bed every morning--that spark that's been snuffed out so many times it'll never form a flame again. He'd never met someone from Alderaan before, but he'd thought they were a peaceful people. It threw him that the woman in front of him looked like she hadn't known peace in quite some time. 

He wanted to ask what made her give up, but he didn't like the way that sounded even to himself. She was so full of fire and life and he didn't want to think of her giving up. "What made you finally stop running?" he asks instead.

"I got tired of being in a room full of people and being alone," she explains. "When your home and your people are gone, there's nothing making you who you are anymore and it's easy to become someone else. I became that someone else," she admitted morosely, "someone who only lived to make other people suffer. I didn't recognize myself, so it was time to give it up and face the consequences. Killing Imps was great, but it wasn't fixing what was broken." She gave him her best smug face. "Sure felt good though....." 

"I bet."

"Look Mando, I haven't meant anything to anyone in a long time, and to be honest, I forgot what it felt like to be worth something. At least now I get to be worth a lump of beskar and a few decent meals for your kid, who's hungry by the way." They both look down at the green bean in question to find he's chewing on her finger with gusto. 

"He's _always_ hungry," her unusual companion explains with a sigh that escapes out the bottom of his helmet.

"I'm just tired," she explains, and she sounds more weary than before, without the dazzling smile gracing her face any longer. "What kind of existence am I still fighting for? Do you know what it's like to realize that not a single person would miss you or even notice if you were gone? I do."

"I do too," he says, and is more than a little alarmed to realize it feels like she's looking directly in his eyes. The helmet is there--he knows it is--but he could have sworn she looked right through it.

"You seem pretty likeable," he tells her, unsure where this feeling of familiarity is coming from. 

"Don't let the act fool you. You don't know me. No one does," she states, and looks fondly down at her lap. "Except maybe this little guy." She can see his little white teeth chomping down on her finger without any real pressure.

"You seem like you're worth getting to know," he tells her. "He clearly agrees with me."

"You must be pretty desperate for company to say that," she says, clearly amused he finds her company tolerable. "I'm glad you haven't frozen me yet though; this is the most I've talked to another person in years. It's ...... _nice_...... I guess."

"Sometimes it sucks being on your own," he says. "You're doing me a favor not being frozen." 

"Cheers to that," she says. She picks up the kid and swings him outward in an approximation of a toast. She can't help but smile when he lets out a delighted squeal. 

Under the protection of the helmet, he could admit he understood everything she had said. It _**did**_ suck, and he could understand why she grew tired of existing only to remain in hiding. Despite her pitiful state, he could see how strong she was, or _had been._ He thought that before all this, she must have been an incredible person to know. She had a loud laugh and also a quiet different one that was slightly more self-conscious when his questions hit too close to home. Her easy rapport with his kid made him think twice about the charges against her. After all, she'd fought in the war and that alone made him respect her. That's why the Empire wanted her terminated, he thought--to them she really **_was_** a monster. Every hero was someone else's villain. It made sense, but it didn't mean he agreed with it.

......


	3. The deal

........................................

day2 

He slept in his bunk overnight while Cara slept tethered loosely to the heavy pipe. She looked uncomfortable, but was able to sleep laying down at least with some rearranging. He'd brought her blankets and a sleeping pad before he fell asleep. 

...........................................

day 3

He felt guilty sleeping in his 'comfortable' bed while she slept on the floor. She could lay down flat but she couldn't even turn over. He slept in the pilot's chair that night in uncomfortable solidarity. 

...........................................

day 4

He wakes up and she's clear across the living space cooking breakfast--neither hand is sporting the binders he left her in to sleep. 

He sits up straighter. "How did yo---?"

"Your kid is quite the little magician," she explains defensively. "He's a better lock pick than I am." 

It was the third day in a row she'd cooked and he never saw her eat any of it. He and the kid did though--they practically licked the plate clean. He took his meal into the other room to eat while he had his face exposed, but true to her word she ever attempted to sneak a peek. He knew he wasn't being poisoned, but he felt guilty at her unexpected and unreciprocated kindness. It was the best food he'd ever had. She'd managed to work a miracle, even with the crappy pantry he kept stocked. 

"I'm not hungry....." she tells him, when he saves an extra plate for her by spooning out less for himself.

"If there's something else.....some dietary restriction I don't know about, we can stop and pick up something you can eat," he offers kindly.

"I'm good, but thank you." That was sweet of him to offer and it took her by surprise how much she appreciated the gesture.

..................................

day 5

Another day goes by and he's noticing little changes. Her lips are cracking. Her clothes look looser than they did the first day. 

It dawns on him that she wasn't only refraining from eating the meals she prepared, but he'd never seen her eat or drink at all since the beer he saw her nursing at the bar to accompany her piece of bread. She had free run of the ship by now, but he never saw her so much as eye a protein bar. 

"You have to eat," he insists, "at least drink something."

"You can bring me in, but I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of living long enough to torture," she says stubbornly. "I know what's going to happen once I get there. There's no justice with the Empire--no panel of war criminal ethics. Tell me this, would you rather be tortured for a whole week or only last a day before you're unconscious?"

He wished she could see his incredulous expression. "So what? You're going to starve yourself?" he asks, incredulously. "Be too weak to fight them? Brilliant idea." He's not even attempting to hide his sarcasm or disapproval of her plan.

"If I was trying to exit this life faster, I'd eat that excuse for food you made the other day," she explains. "I'm not offing myself, but I won't give them the satisfaction of breaking me for weeks either. I don't get to control what happens but I can control how long it goes on."

He wished he didn't almost agree with her. She wouldn't be cleanly executed without being tortured. She knew it and he knew it too. He couldn't think about what would happen once he turned her over. It made him sick for some reason.

.........................................

"You're good with kids," he observes that night. It's undeniable. The kid hasn't let her out of his sight. "You have any?"

She snorts. "Me? Someone's mama? Thank the stars, no." She can hardly contain her laughter. "I can't imagine any poor baby unlucky enough to have me as a mother."

Din's not hearing it. "I call bullshit. I've never seen him take to anyone like this." His boy never leaves her lap. She carries him around and feeds him, bathes him in the sink, and lets him sleep on her throughout the day and even at night when he can't keep his huge eyes open any longer. She was getting too weak to climb the ladder to put him to bed though. She had free reign of the ship, but she always stayed where she was supposed to. She only went upstairs to put the kid in his hammock when her arms got tired from holding him. He sees her rubbing her hip and wincing when he's not looking. They're both young, but the floor isn't great for bones and joints of any age.

"Seriously, take my bed,” he says to her. “I'll sleep on the floor."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffs. "This is your ship."

"And you're my guest...."

Her eyebrows rise up. "I'm a guest now?" she teases him, with a hint of a smirk.

"Guest bounty? Bounty guest?" he tries to explain, but she' s smiling at him even more now. "Oh, shut up Cara."

..... he sleeps on the floor beside her instead......

"Aren't you worried I'll shoot you in your sleep or remove your helmet?" she asks, once the lights are out and he’s really hell-bent on staying.

"Are you going to?" he challenges her.

"No....bu--"

"Then I'm not worried," he states. "Your words matter to you and mine matter to me too. If I say I trust you, then I trust you." He falls asleep easier than he could remember with the sound of her breathing and the kid’s little baby snores lulling him to sleep.

....................................... 

day 6

Days have passed since they became weird shipmates and she had never made any kind of overture that she was biding her time to overtake him or break free. "I want to see you fight," he challenges her, "you look like you can." He'd almost been disappointed he hadn't had to work to take her down. He could have used the entertainment, not to mention the challenge. 

That damn smile is back and it's cutting right into him in a way he's totally unfamiliar with. He's seen beautiful women before, but nothing like this. It wasn't just her face it was the person behind it. She was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with his eyesight.

"I would, but I don't want to embarrass you in front of your kid," she replies, cocky as ever. Her smirk was like an electrical fire. The room suddenly got twenty degrees hotter and it was hard to breathe. It made him panic a little to realize how much it affected him.

"Prove it or shut up."

Okay, so she proved it. 

She hit him hard and fast and the power behind her kicks and punches was amazing. She controlled him embarrassingly easily, though he just managed to hold his own. Barely. 

Still, she dominated the fight--a fact he couldn't deny, especially from her victorious perch atop him. Her hips straddled his waist and his arms were pinned to his sides until he gave up and tapped out.

She's looking down on him looking like she belongs there--like she's looking down on him from a throne. She looks gorgeous, victorious and flushed, and he hadn't let her win either, which only made her smug face all the more radiant. He couldn't ignore that he knew her cheeks should have had more color given the exertion of their tussle though. She had been days without food or water and this must have used up her precious reserves if her labored breathing was to be believed. He feels like an asshole now. He was supposed to be keeping her alive and healthy and reserving her energy and he baited her into a fight, all because he wanted to see her smile and see her in all her glory. She was sweating though, just not nearly as much as she should have been. She was really dehydrated by now and he'd just made it worse.

"You really need to drink some water , I'm serious. Y--"

"I'm not sure you're in a position to make demands, Mando," she mocks, from her seat astride him. He struggles unexpectedly and flips her, only because she's so exhausted and because she lets him. Her muscles are shaking.

"What about now," he asks, when he gets her pinned. He meant it to sound teasing and cocky, but he gets a look at her face and her pupils are wide and dark enough to rival the kid’s. Her face is flushed and her legs are wrapped around his lower back. Her whole body might be on the brink of collapse, but her eyes are screaming something else. She's turned on by this. She wants him. What's worse is he wants her too. 

He scrambles off her. "Sorry, let me help you up."

“What if I don't want to get up?” she asks him slyly, still on her back.

He pulls her into a sitting position. “That's your exhaustion and adrenaline talking,” he reasons, “you don't want this.”

"Perfect," she says sarcastically, "a man telling a woman what she wants." 

"You don't,” he insists. “You aren't thinking clearly." As much as he liked her, cared about her, wanted her, he wouldn’t let this go any further while she was in such a fragile state. She might have just kicked his ass, but she was paying for it already--she was still shaking. She hadn’t eaten anything or taken in any liquid in an alarming number of days. She wasn’t thinking clearly and believe it or not he was in a position of power over her as long as she was his 'prisoner'. The fact that she came and went as she liked and cooked the best meals he'd ever had didn't change that simple fact. He promised her that first day he wouldn't touch her and he meant it. He wouldn't take advantage of her--he wouldn't--no matter how much she said she wanted it now. He just needed some space to get control over himself.

She thought about climbing onto him again, but wasn’t in the mood to be rejected twice. She wants him and he’s not interested. That much was clear--it was one sided. He could say whatever he wanted about her state of mind but she knew what she wanted. She wanted to feel important to someone one last time, she wanted to feel wanted. She felt attracted to him--a feeling she hadn't felt in years, to be honest-- but that clearly wasn't enough. She's too tired to argue what she knows to be true, so she gives in. "If you insist....."

She's suddenly so tired as the fight drains out of her and lays back down. She’d pushed herself in that fight but she doesn’t regret a second of it. Feeling alive again had been magnificent, she just needed to sleep for a few hours …….she was sure that was all this sudden exhaustion was.

She went from looking flirty and triumphant to shaky and pale in just a few minutes as the rush of adrenaline leaving her left her dizzy and clumsy. He shouldn't have challenged her, he realizes. She couldn't back down and used way more energy she didn't have to rise to the challenge he presented. Shit. He needed to get her to drink something. 

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, as the silence stretches on, and half an hour later, she’s still trying and failing to catch her breath. Usually, she's chattering away with the kid nonstop with him in her lap, but she's laying down still. He was glad the kid was fighting sleep because he didn't want to watch her struggle and fail to climb the ladder to put him down. Watching her struggle to do basic tasks was making him feel sick.

It's taking her a long time to catch her breath, but she's managing with her whole ribcage and stomach jumping in to help/

"Cara? you okay?"

“Yeah. Don't feel that great. Just tired " she says in choppy incomplete sentences "You worry like an old woman.” Her stiff and clumsy speech doesn't give him much reassurance, but he breathed a sigh of relief she was feeling enough herself to tease him again. They spent the late hours chatting about the ocean planet they were passing out the viewport. Turns out she can swim. He can't. She tried to describe what it's like—the sensation of floating and hearing the sound of water in your ears when you submerge. 

"I'm from Alderaan, Did I tell you that?" she says, as her tongue feels less lazy. "There was a lot of water before..... you know."

He falls asleep listening to her voice; the kid content snuggled between them. His brain is fighting with his common sense. He knew he shouldn't look forward to the nights where they talk until they fall asleep. He shouldn't look forward to the mornings when she cooks and then laughs when he tries to follow along to replicate it. He shouldn't like telling her about his life and seeing the acceptance in her eyes. This was a bounty and at the end of the day she was no different than a pretty crate or a decorative box--an object he'd trade for a few bars of metal and a bag full of credits. She was a day's work. Maybe he didn't want this kind of work, a voice in his head chimed in. He was turning her over in another day-and-a half, and every hour that passed by made him feel more and more nauseated. He was signing her execution as sure as if he held a blaster to her head himself. He liked her. He cared about her in a way he couldn't explain. They'd come up with some plan tomorrow, but now, listening to her voice telling him about how the trees changed colors with the seasons was too much to fight. 

………………..

The kid chirped impatiently, and when Din didn't immediately address his sound, he cried out louder. Din’s eyes opened and his neck hurt from sleeping in his helmet on the floor. From the lights on the wall, he knew it was late morning. He chuckles and looks at his chrono to see the actual time and is shocked. He doesn’t smell anything except his own morning breath reflected back at him and is puzzled. By now, he usually woke to the smell of her cooking or preparing caf in the small kitchen. He nudged her where she was splayed out beside him. "I guess we slept in, can you believe it?" he says, as he sits up and stretches. She doesn’t bite back with a teasing remark though. She doesn’t even stir.

"Cara?"

She doesn't answer. The cabin is eerily silent. 

He nudges her harder. "Cara?"

She's unresponsive. The kid chirps louder.

"Come on, stop kidding around." He gets up on his knees and turns her over.

The kid looked worried and kept making the same sound over and over. He's tucked against her side and won’t move out of the way.

"Cara? Hey. HEY!"

The kid finally looks away from her face, and focuses on Din, looking to him as if asking him to fix her. 

"Come on, don't do this,” he commands her, and shakes her hard. Her head lolls to the side but she doesn't stir and her eyes don't open. 

He feels for her pulse and breathes a sigh of relief when he feels it in her neck after not finding it in her wrist. He slaps her face and shakes her trying to get her to wake up. Her skin is so pale. 

"Please." He didn't want to watch her die--not on this dirty undersupplied ship laying on an old beat-up cargo pad. She still had so much to fight for. She was the first person he cared about in so long and she was like this because of him. He runs to the kitchen and grabs a cup of fresh water and manages some drops of cool liquid into her mouth now that she can't physically refuse it. He brings the med box closer and opens a needle kit right beside her. After he struggles and fails to find a vein for an IV he throws the needle and tubing pack aside to open a fresh one. She's closer to death than he thought. She'd been joking with him just hours ago--just how long had she been fighting the inevitable with a brave face?

He wants to hear her smart mouth again…..hear her laugh….and hear another one of her stories. He wanted to watch her feed the kid dinner, and end up with more of it on her than in his little mouth. 

He’s so bad at this he's going to end up blowing her veins, but he doesn't care. Neither of her arms are giving him anything to work with and neither is her closest hand. It's only after he tries on her other hand and pulls back to see red, does he remember to breathe again. He gets out the IV bag in his first aid box and hopes it’s not expired, though it probably is. He should have done this before, but she wouldn't allow it. She was so strong that even in her weakened state, getting an IV in her against her will would be like trying to get mittens on the kid when he wanted to be naked. 

....................................

The backwoods planet he landed on is sparsely populated and their only tiny spaceport is lacking in any technology more complicated than a data pad. It's twenty years behind the nearest planet at best. It's perfect. 

He lands several miles out and finds a clearing with a cool stream surrounded by trees on one side. Time to finish this deal.

…………….

Cara wakes up and is alarmed to be sitting on soft grass instead of the metal floor of the razor crest. Before she can panic about lost time or being moved without her knowledge, she spots Mando sitting next to her with the kid--both watching her intently. The green baby looks in his element surrounded by this lush environment. He’s meant to be surrounded by nature like this, she thinks. He's the same color as the moss.

This doesn't look like an Imperial outpost to her, though she admits her head is fuzzy. Did they land already? Was he waiting on his contact to hand her over?

"What the fuck are you doing?" she asks him, "Where are we?"

He doesn't answer her. Instead, he hands her a bag with food and a weapon tucked inside. He managed to put most of her armor back on her before she woke up, but left her gloves off.

He gets to his knees from his sitting position and by his stiffness she knows he's been sitting watching her for a while--hours probably. "Get the hell out of here as soon as you can get to your feet," he tells her gruffly. It’s clear he hasn’t talked in many, many hours. It makes sense--she was the only other person to talk to since the kid didn't really contribute yet.

It clicks in her subconscious what this looks like to her, but it takes her sluggish brain another minute to realize he's not kidding. He's letting her go. She's almost angry at him for being such an idiot. 

"What about the reward?" she asks, incredulously. "Your beskar you needed?"

"It's not a trade I can live with," is the only explanation he offers. "I'll tell them you got away on Trask, or that I snapped your neck on accident when you fought back. Maybe it'll give you some time for a headstart if they think you're dead......"

She can't wrap her head around his motivations. "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't know," he says, "but I can't not do this." He looks around at their surroundings. "You asked where we are," he reminds her, "we're on Sorgan." At the look of complete confusion on her face he can't help but crack a smile.He adds on, "I've never heard of it before either, so it's perfect."

Her head was spinning, but she managed to pin him with her glare. "What will you do?"

He doesn’t answer her. She doesn’t need to worry about him, he thinks. She keeps asking about him, but he wants her to focus on herself. 

"I advise you to lay low," he tells her, "stay off the radar. This is a shithole planet and you might get away with a new life if you keep your chain code from getting scanned."

She gets what he's doing, but she can't wrap her head around why. "What about your kid? He needs to eat," she argues stubbornly. "He's always hungry. You needed that payday."

She was worried about him. ..... it was genuine. When was the last time someone really cared about him? It moved him. He wouldn't forget it.

"I'll find another job that pays like this one," he lies to her. "He'll be alright. We're not doing so bad," he says, as he picks up the kid who doesn't seem like he wants to let go of her boot.

"Your socks have holes in them, you liar. You need this money."

"Shut up," he laughs. He stands with the kid but she's too weak to protest or follow even if she could manage to stand. There was still an IV in her arm and some snacks beside her when she felt well enough to eat. He pins her with a glare even with the helmet in place. "Remember, lay low."

He doesn't want to leave her here, but he can't linger long enough to see her back at full strength. The longer he and his ship stay on the surface, the higher the chance either one of them is discovered. He knows it.

She knows it too. This is it. "Take care of yourself Mando."

"It's Din," he hears himself say out of nowhere. He had no clue where that came from. He hadn't said that name out loud in years. No one outside the covert knew it. 

She manages a weak smile. "Take care of yourself......Din." 

"You too Cara, stay out of trouble."

"--ts-car--sy--a--" he hears her mumble quietly, but he can only pick up certain syllables. 

"What?"

"It's Carasynthia,” she says louder. “That's not on the puck."

"That's the softest name I've ever heard," he says, in mock disbelief.

“Ugh shut up,” she laughs. She throws a ration bar at his head and it bounces off his helmet. The kid dives for it as soon as it's on the ground. "Get outta here, you idiot, before I find something bigger to throw at you."

"Don't linger," he reminds her. "As soon as that IV finishes up and you can move, find shelter and stay away from people."

She holds out a shaky hand in his direction.

"Until our paths cross," she says in parting.

He takes it without hesitation. His gloves had been taken off and hers were stowed safely in her bag since she needed the moisture from the grass on her dry skin. Her hand was warm and he held it longer than was probably acceptable but he didn't care. He hoped she got away--and that her calloused hands got a break from fighting so much. 

If their paths ever crossed again, it meant she'd been found, so he wanted to say he hoped he never saw her again, but that was a lie. He hoped he did, but under better circumstances. 

"Until our paths cross."

.............

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear from you. I'm trying to keep writing these two, and some encouragement would be much appreciated .


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